


Spirited

by lorcaswhisky (aristofranes)



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, in which Tilly sees not-alive people, playing fast and loose with canonical timelines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 12:18:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17601248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aristofranes/pseuds/lorcaswhisky
Summary: Fresh from averting an extinction-level event, Tilly returns to her room to find Ellen Landry waiting for her. Which is ... complicated.





	Spirited

**Author's Note:**

> This was recklessly written and even more recklessly posted, and so I apologise in advance for the inevitable mistakes that follow.
> 
> Heavily inspired by the Landry episode of the Antimatter podcast (https://antimatterpod.podbean.com), but don't blame them for this mess.

Tilly was tired.

That was all. Just - tired.

And it was understandable. Completely understandable. She’d been attacked by a chunk of asteroid, suffered a serious head injury, drunk way too many espressos and executed extremely complex mathematical equations in order to avert the extinction of an entire planet, all in the space of a few hours. She was _allowed_ to be tired.

Seeing May - _not_ seeing May, absolutely not _seeing_ May, _thinking_ that she’d seen May - was just a symptom of all of that. Nothing more.

So when she opened the door of her room to find Ellen Landry alive and well and lounging on her bed, Tilly felt that she was well within her rights to be quite annoyed.

“ _You_ ,” she informed the hallucination, pointing an accusatory finger at the space where Landry definitely wasn’t, “are not supposed to be here.”

“What kind of welcome is that?” Not-Landry said, folding her arms.

“It’s not a welcome. Because there is no-one here to welcome. Because you are not here. Because you’re dead,” Tilly replied.

“Ouch. Kick a girl when she’s down, why don’t you?”

“I’m sorry. Look, no offence. But you are - dead. Which _means_ , by definition, you can’t be here. See?”

She poked Not-Landry in the cheek, just to make her point.

It was ruined somewhat by the fact that she felt warm skin underneath her fingertip.

“Oh. Oh. _Oh_ , that is - that is really not OK. Totally unacceptable,” Tilly muttered, continuing to prod Maybe-Landry’s scowling face with an air of horrified scientific experimentation. “I just - need you to appreciate how completely uncool this is.”

“Can you stop that?”

“I’m - sorry.” Tilly drew back her hand hastily. “I … I think I need a minute. Could you just...” She waved her hands generally at the bed. “Just - make yourself comfy, I guess? I’m gonna--”

Tilly was privately quite proud that she managed to make it to the bathroom before she threw up. That was probably a good trait in someone on the Command track, she felt.

Seeing dead people? Probably less helpful for future starship captains.

She washed her face, drew in a deep breath, and stepped back out into her room.

Landry was still there, which was unfortunate.

She raised a querying eyebrow at Tilly’s expression.

“I feel like we … got off on the wrong foot just now,” Tilly said, attempting to sound normal. “Hi. It’s good to - no, not good - well, it’s not not-good, it’s just - _complicated_ to see you. Y’know, because you’re ... dead, and everything. You are dead, aren’t you?”

“I died,” Landry replied, calmly.

“Great, glad we agree on that--”

“Which is not the same as being dead.”

“Again, that is _not_ cool,” Tilly said, pressing her hands to her forehead and scrunching up her face.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about. You’re not the one who died.”

“Are there more of you?” Tilly asked. “I mean, there’s May, and now there’s you - is this - is this just how it is now? I open the door and there’s another dead person--”

“Not dead.”

“--a - not-alive person there?” Tilly finished, exasperated.

Landry shrugged.

“You’re supposed to be the scientist,” she said.

“Yeah, but this isn’t science, this is…” Tilly spread her hands in an attempt to encapsulate the awful not-scienceyness of it all, before giving up.

She sank down on to the bed next to Landry, tucking her hands between her knees, careful not to touch her.

“Sorry,” she said. “This is all a bit - new for me.”

“That makes two of us.” Landry sighed, and looked around the room with a look that might have been approval. “You finally got your own room, I see.”

“Yeah,” Tilly said brightly. “No more sneaking around--” She flushed scarlet, and pretended not to see Landry smirk. “Uh - yeah. I, um - I’m an ensign, now. And I was accepted on to the CTP, and…” she trailed off. “A lot happened. After you - died.”

“So I see,” Landry said, a frown creeping across her face as she inspected the framed photo of Tilly and Michael smiling, arms around each other, that sat on the shelf nearest Tilly’s bed.

“It’s … kind of a long story.” Tilly swung her legs, uncertain. “I … I’m sorry you weren’t around to be a part of it. Well, you were a _part_ of it, but - a bigger part of it. A happier part. I’d have liked that.”

“Me too.” Landry’s voice was very quiet.

Tilly paused, then reached for Landry’s hand.

“I’m glad you’re haunting me.”

“I’m not a ghost, but thanks. I guess.”

“Sorry. I’m not up to speed on the right terminology just yet. What would you prefer?”

“Just - ‘I’m glad you’re here’?”

Tilly squeezed her hand.

“I am,” she whispered. “Glad you’re here. Very glad.” She rubbed her forehead, and was struck by the sudden realisation that she was still only wearing a hospital gown. “But I am also - _so_ tired, beyond exhausted, really, and honestly, I’m probably not going to be the best company this evening, so--”

“Sleep,” Landry said, firmly. “It’s fine, really. I don’t mind. I have all the time in the world. Literally.”

Landry moved over and Tilly burrowed under the covers, sighing with relief at finding herself in her own bed at last.

“Do you want me to go?” she heard Landry ask, somewhere on the other side of the fog that was rolling over her.

“No. Not again,” Tilly murmured.

There was a pause, then Tilly heard the zip of a uniform jacket and felt the mattress dip as Landry sat on the edge to tug off her boots.

There was a brief, cool breeze as the covers were adjusted to accommodate two people, before an arm snaked around Tilly’s waist.

“Is this OK?” Landry asked softly.

Tilly wriggled so that her back was snug against Landry’s chest.

“Mmhmm. ‘S nice. Like before.”

There was silence for a moment.

Then Landry sighed.

“What is it?” she asked, resigned.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but you want to. I can tell.”

“I just … do you even need to sleep?”

“No. Because I’m not alive.”

There was more silence.

“You know, I kind of wish I hadn’t asked,” Tilly admitted.

“So do I. Just sleep. Please.”

“And you’ll just … be here?”

“I’ll be here.”

*

The comms panel on the wall chimed.

_“Ensign Tilly, please report to Engineering.”_

Tilly stretched.

“On my way,” she yawned, and rolled over. “Look, I’m gonna have to--”

Tilly opened her eyes.

Landry was gone.

“Hello?” Tilly tried. “Ellen?”

There was no reply. Of course there wasn’t. Because there was just her, by herself, in her room. Because Ellen Landry was dead, and there were no such things as ghosts. Or - not-alive people.

Or whatever the hell that concussion dream had been about.

Tilly showered, and dressed, and paid no attention to the fact that the photograph next to her bed was not quite in the right place.


End file.
